


Give Yourself A Try

by paintyouwings



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: HELP ME HELP YOU AND OTHERS, Jerk Harry, Louis’ family is fictional, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Past Character Death, Sweet Louis, TELL ME WHAT TO TAG PLEASE, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintyouwings/pseuds/paintyouwings
Summary: Louis is a creator. Harry is a destroyer. Together they make a beautiful disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sneak peek of the new fic I’m working on. Let me know what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, my bf leaves on a two month deployment very very very very soon and even though where and what he’s doing isn’t supposed to be dangerous it’s still the military and things happen so please please please keep my baby in your thoughts/prayers/send positive vibes/whatever you believe in. (Keep me in your thoughts too. I won’t have much contact with him and my heart will ache)

New story. The boys’ families are in no way based on their real families. All the characters are fictional. 

Louis Tomlinson was a creator. An artist, in all forms of the word. He would strum you a melody on the guitar, a sickeningly sweet tune that made your heart skip a beat – but it was nothing compared to his voice. The soft sound would come out in the form of a lullaby, stopping your heart all together and lulling you to sweet dreams. It was simply hypnotizing, how his singing could make you swish and sway, forget your pain and sorrows for just a few minutes, and get lost in him.

His voice was merely a recipe in his music, however.

His lyrics were the things that tied it all together, like a bow on top of a lovely package. He would slide the box in your hands with a reassuring smile, nodding in a silent command of 'open it.' Swallowing thickly, you would peel the wrapping paper tentatively, fingers lingering over the flap of the box before you held your breath and just opened it. The words would flood out like rain, wrapping around you and blinding your senses like cocaine. You would get lost in his world, in his words, unable to comprehend anything other than the sentences passing his lips.  
Of course, Louis was never one to have only a single talent – as amazing as it may be.

He was an artist. With the stroke of his wrist, the dip of his brush, a masterpiece would form right before your very eyes. A soft smile would adorn his face as he worked, calmly letting his hand glide over his paper, the colors blending into a sea of misinterpreted thoughts and trap doors. He would dab his brush in a pool of blues and greens, splashing them across the scene and creating a whirl, a swirl, a little curl of delight.

Louis Tomlinson was a creator. It was his outlet, the way he blew steam, the way he kept his sanity. It was the one thing in his life that was calm and perfect, never leaving him behind or betraying him.

When Daniel...when he...how could he...?

He sang. He picked at his guitar. He wrote the words in his mind over and over on paper before crumpling them into little balls and sending them to the trash can. No matter how hard he tried, the things he wanted to say just wouldn't come out. It was like he was shoveling sand into his mouth, his throat going dry and the air going thick. He was cracking, slowly suffocating under the pressure; his brother was gone, his mother was a mess, and his father was getting drunk enough to pass out on the floor. His life was tumbling down right before his eyes, and no matter how much he scrambled around to keep the bricks together, they just kept coming down. How was he supposed to keep his own life together, when he was too busy picking up the pieces of his parents' hearts?

He decided that their well-being was more important than his. After all, he was a creator, and he wouldn't just stand by and watch his parents crumble.

It had been 3 months after Daniel died that Louis put down his guitar for the last time. He let it collect dust in the corner of his room; he would stare at it longingly, his fingers burning with that familiar itch that usually came when he felt the need to play. His voice was locked away in the back of his throat, his singing never to be heard again. He shoved his easel into his closet, ripped his sketches from the walls and threw them away until his room was bare. His paint brushes were thrown away, his heart aching every time he saw those too-bright colors that he once related to his life. Now, all he could see were blacks and grays.

Now, it has been a year since Daniel's death. Louis's life is bleak, the art of creation buried deep into the pits of his mind, like a foreign memory that is so far away, he doesn't even miss it. He can't even recall what it feels like to sing out his feelings, to hold a paintbrush and create something beautiful.

It seems his inspiration had followed his brother to the grave.

XxXxX

Harry Styles was a destroyer. He broke hearts about as much as he breathed air. Like anything in life, destroying was an art form, and Harry was quite the artist when it came to smashing things in two. He's broken everything he's ever touched, hurt everyone he's ever loved – and there is nothing he can do to stop it. It's in his nature, a part of him. It's like a mole on his face; a blemish that he can't get rid of.

Harry didn't want to be this way. It just happened. He used to be the lovable boy with a cheeky grin that made you just want to pinch his little-boy cheeks. Unfortunately, he was taught at a young age the art of destruction.

His father left when he was just starting 1st grade. It completely crushed his mother, leaving her a pile of sobs and tattered bones. Her skin would sag and her eyes always looked tired and sad. Harry would watch from behind the corner as his mother cried while trying to make dinner, her hands shaking before she dropped the bowl in her hands, letting the glass fall to the floor and shatter, much like her own heart.

You could say that Harry learned from the best.

Now, everything he touched turned to ash. Every relationship he got into would be cut off in the same month. He wasn't sure if he was afraid of commitment or not, but either way, he always seemed to fuck everything up; he would cheat, he would lie, he would yell...

Everything would seem perfect in the beginning, like two teenagers in love. But soon after, havoc would break loose. Harry would destroy what he had promised to keep whole, would watch as the boy would cry and push their way past him, running away in betrayal and hurt.

It would be more than obvious that the relationship was over.

Harry Styles was a destroyer. Louis Tomlinson was a creator. It didn't seem possible, sounded completely ridiculous to say that they could ever be compatible, that they could ever learn to love each other.

And then they met.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never posted a story like this so if I need to tag a trigger or something that should be tagged please PLEASE let me know and I’ll add the tags

Louis never really understood why he had to go to school. He wished that he'd just quit right after graduating high school; but his mother's insistent pushing eventually sent him tumbling through college applications and pulling all-nighters to try and complete the papers he needed to write.

All to get into a place he didn't want to go to. But it made his mother swell with pride, and that was enough for him.

He parked in the parking lot before cutting off the engine and leaning back in his seat. He had about a half hour until his class actually started. If that was so, than why on earth would he be here so early, you ask? The answer is quite simple, but all too complicated at the same time.

His father was shit-faced drunk.

Again.

Louis's parents were two totally different people, and he has come to learn this well ever since...that happened. His mother, always one to work with what she had, showered her remaining son with love and affection. She wanted to give him no reason to copy his brother's actions, wanted to make sure that he felt secured and loved, like he could talk to her before he made any rash decisions.

Of course, after losing her first born child, she was never the same. Her smiles seemed too fake, her 'I love you's were hazy, as if she didn't know whether she was speaking to Louis or Daniel. She replaced all of the pictures on the walls – ones of Louis, of his grandmother and grandfather, of his cousins – with ones of Daniel. Louis would come home from work or school and find her standing in the entrance hallway, staring at the pictures of his deceased sibling with an unreadable expression on her face. Louis would softly call her name, and the spell would be broken, like the webs that had been keeping her bound were never there to begin with.

Sure, it may not be the best, and Louis sometimes felt that she payed more attention to the dead than to her living and breathing son; but at least she was trying.

His father, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He was usually drunk before breakfast was even set on the table, slurring half-thoughts and sentences that didn't make much sense. He would stumble to the living room and pass out on the couch for the remainder of the day, only waking up to get more beer or relieve himself in the bathroom.

Before Daniel's stunt, Mr. Tomlinson had been quite the father. He attended everyone of Louis's soccer games when he was in elementary school; he would cheer and point to Louis, saying, “That's my boy!” even when he missed a goal. He listened intently when his son played guitar for him and asked, “What do you think is missing?”

But now, it's like he was a changed man.

Louis would come home and kiss his father on the cheek, only to be waved away – couldn't Louis see that he was trying to watch sports and wallow in self-pity? What an ungrateful child, nothing like Daniel, that's for sure...

He would often call Louis “Daniel” or forget his name all together. “You're nothing like my boy, Daniel!” he would yell drunkenly. “He could have done it so much better!”

Louis tried not to let it get to him; he was drunk, he reasoned. He didn't know what he was saying, didn't know who he was talking to. He didn't mean a word he said. He was proud of Louis, he had to be.

But drunken words are sober thoughts.

And looking towards that dead when you have the living couldn't be good.

And the world continued to spin.

XxXxX

Louis walked away from the lecture with drool on his chin and a red mark on his forehead from leaning against his arm. His eyes felt dry and he suddenly regretted going to bed so late last night; he had more hours today at work since he was filling in for a sick co-worker – damn that Zayn. He was never going to be talked into filling in again.

He was jolted out of his inward ramblings when he felt himself being shoved from behind, a shoulder knocking into his own. He fell forward slightly but was able to catch himself; but not without dropping all his things in the process.

With a frown, he looked up to see the perpetrator; a tall, lanky man with long brown curly hair and pretty green eyes. The boy continued to run with haste, looking over his shoulder at him and calling back, “Sorry about that, mate!”

Glaring, Louis gave him the finger before bending down to grab his things. Of course that jerk was in far too much of a hurry to pick up the mess he caused. Once his belongings were safely tucked in his arms once more, he stalked off to his car, his mood having dropped several degrees.

Just another bug on his windshield, trying to ruin his day.

XxXxX

Music Matters; a small music shop that sold everything you could ever possibly want from a music store. Instruments, CD's, T-shirts, posters; you wanted it, they had it. The types of people that came in and out of there were varying; some very pleasant to deal with, and others not so much.

For better or for worse, this was where Louis worked. It had decent hours and the pay was pretty good. It was enough to keep himself on his feet and help pay for his parents as well.

Probably his favorite part of the day was his break time. He could look through the store, check out the new CD's that just came in and shift through the numerous magazines. It was the time of day where professors weren't lecturing, bosses wasn't ordering, and customers weren't bitching; because it was his break.

He heard the bell over the door ring, but paid no mind to it. It was Zayn's shift anyways. 

“Hm, what's the price on that?” he heard a low voice come from next to him and he looked up, eyes widening slightly when he saw it was the man from earlier. Louis frowned, but this action only seemed to make the other's playful smirk grow larger.

Why wasn't he bugging Zayn-- Oh. Louis mentally smacked himself. He was filling in for Zayn, as in Zayn wasn't fucking here, dumbass.

“Price on what, sir?” Louis hoped he didn't sound as hostile as he wanted to. He really couldn't afford to get fired, and he wasn't about to lose his job because of some prick.

“On that ass.”

Louis's jaw dropped and he was sure that his face was red, if the other's chuckle was anything to go by. Side-stepping the curly haired man, Louis scoffed to try and hide his embarrassment, making his way back to the front counter and hoping that the guy would take the hint.

“Does that mean it's on the house?” Louis stopped in his tracks before turning around and glaring when he heard the lust in his voice.

“Either get a material object, or get the fuck out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really though. If anything seems like a trigger please let me know and I’ll tag it. Also, all of louis’ family are fictional characters. They’re my characters and in no way inspired by his real family.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it’s been a hot minute but I have a pretty good excuse. When my man got back from his short deployment we went a little nuts and long story short went straight to the courthouse and got married. Told ya it was a good excuse! We’ve been married for a few weeks and I’m in the process of moving on base with him. I’m so in love and I’ve never been happier! He’s the most amazing man and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call him my husband! 
> 
>  
> 
> So little bit about this story and myself....a lot of the Harry character is how I used to be when it came to relationships. Actually the convo with Liam is something an ex once said to me pretty much word for word (no matter how ‘idgaf’ your attitude is, you never forget words like that). I just want all of you to know that no matter what kind of person you used to be, people change and you deserve happiness. If I can find it then anyone can. I’m rooting for you.

Today was obviously not going to be a good day for Harry Styles. Not only had his lecture gone past the scheduled time limit – good lord, did that man know how to drone – but he was running late for his lunch with Liam. Things were already teetering on the edge for them, and he wasn't sure how much more he could push the brunet before he snapped.

Missing this lunch probably wouldn't be one of the smartest things he's ever done.

He ran as fast as he could, trying to dodge people while finding the quickest route to his car. A brunette boy shorter than him seemed to appear out of thin air in front of him, making him run straight into the kid. He heard things falling and a mumbled curse, but continued running – after all, saving his dick was more important than some stranger, right?

“Sorry about that, mate!” he called over his shoulder, trying to send a quick apologetic glance as he made a mad dash to his car. No doubt, the kid was probably fuming, but Harry honestly couldn't really care less.

XxXxX

If Harry was being honest with himself, he would know that he was incredibly nervous. Why else would he be sitting in his parked car in front of the restaurant, too afraid to actually go in?

Harry liked Liam, he really did; he was funny and adorable, simply irresistible. He could keep up with Harry mentally and physically – Harry wasn't going to lie, Liam had the body of an angel. That tan skin, delicate face, full ass...

But Harry could never be satisfied with what he had, could he?

He'd cheated. Multiple times, in fact. It wasn't that Liam didn't give it to him whenever he asked for it – there was nothing wrong with Liam at all. The brunet was perfect for Harry. He went along with everything that happened, from Harry's insistent drinking to his dirty living habits. They'd been living together for a good 4 months, one of the longest relationships Harry has had in quite some time.

It wasn't Liam with the problem. It was Harry.

Harry just didn't know how to keep his hands to himself. Some might say that he was terrified of commitment, and it was more than likely true. Every time things got serious, he would lose his cool, his composure would drop. He would select the nearest thing to fuck it up – whether it be he cheated, insulted them constantly, or wreaked havoc on their minds.

He always made breaking hearts theatrical.

Is this what this surprise lunch was all about? It had to be about something important. They've hardly spoken the last few days, an awkward silence always filling the apartment. Whenever Harry made sexual advances, Liam would push him away and shake his head, as if disappointed in Harry for what he was doing.

Did Liam find out that Harry was sneaking out at night to get some cheap scores? Harry had no clue how the boy would react to that; after all, Liam was always unpredictable, always hard to read and never giving himself away.

Deciding that just sitting there wasn't going to get anything done, he sighed and got out of the car, heading into the restaurant – he'd kept Liam waiting long enough. When he got inside, he found the boy sitting at one of the booths with a solemn expression and eyes like winter. Harry leaned across the table and pecked a quick kiss to his forehead before sitting down across from him, crossing his hands together awkwardly as he waited for something to happen.

When it became apparent that Liam wasn't going to start the conversation any time soon, Harry asked, “How was your day?”

“Good,” Liam replied blankly. “How was last night's lay?”

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he honestly didn't know how to respond to that. How could he possibly defend himself when he knew that he was caught red handed? How could he let Liam down gently – though he already seemed to know exactly what was going to happen – and make this less painful?

Sighing, he admitted, “Good.”

Fuck doing this gently. Their relationship had been doomed weeks ago; Harry just didn't care about him anymore.

Liam passed an emotionless smile that looked all-too forced. “Well, that's always good.”

Good.

A waiter strolled around and placed a plate in front of Harry, Liam shooing him away soon after. Harry stared at the food in front of him – it was the same plate he always ordered when he came here – and couldn't help but thought it meant something. That Liam was trying to show him something through ordering a meal for him like this. But what could food mean?

I'm not angry?

I love you?

Harry brushed it off, obviously uncaring of the situation – Liam was going to leave him, not doubt about that. Liam may have 'loved him' – they all do – but he wasn't an idiot; he wasn't one to be used. Harry might as well enjoy the food and get over it.

“Don't come back to the apartment for a few hours. By the time you get back, I'll be out of your hair,” Liam spoke so expressionlessly, that Harry wondered if the boy cared about the break up as much as he did – which wasn't very much.

“Sure thing,” Harry nodded as Liam rose to his feet. “What, I don't get any 'goodbye sex'?”

Liam was staring at him, at the smirk plastered to his face. Harry was surprised that the boy hadn't resorted to yelling or punching his teeth out, considering that he was making sex jokes after probably breaking the kid's sweet little heart. He was even more surprised when Liam leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips – just a delicate peck, a butterfly touch, light as a feather.

“You, Harry Styles, are a destroyer,” Liam whispered against his lips before pulling back slightly, his eyes piercing into Harry's. “You destroy everything you touch.”

He pulled away and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.

XxXxX

Staying out of the apartment for a few hours was a little bit harder than Harry originally thought. He didn't have a lot of money on him and he left his cell phone at home in his hurry to get to class on time. He couldn't call up any friends, and he sure as hell wasn't about to drive all over town in search of some company.

It was about 5 o'clock when he turned on the corner and came face to face with a small music store – 'Music Matters.' It was smaller than the surrounding buildings and looked moderately empty. Figuring that he had nothing better to do, Harry parked his car on the side of the road, fed the parking meter a quarter or two, and started for the little shop.

He vaguely wondered if Liam was done yet; after all, it'd been about 2 hours since they last spoke. But Harry really didn't want to walk in on Liam packing up, didn't want to enter the thick atmosphere. He shook his head and continued forward.

The little bell over the door rang out as he entered, alerting the shop of his presence. He didn't see anyone behind the see-through plastic counter and the place was about as quiet as a ghost town. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, leisurely making his way to the counter and looking down at the goods stored inside of it; guitar picks, band jewelry, small boxes of guitar strings, several new CD's, magazines, and even some Buddy Holly glasses.

He wandered around the store aimlessly, looking at the selection of guitars for several minutes before finding himself in the CD section. His eyes landed on an employee – if that uniform was anything to go by – and stopped walking.

To say that the guy was attractive would be the understatement of the year. The curves of his body leading down to those full hips and round ass was enough to make Harry's pants grow just a little bit tighter. The caramel hair that fell into his eyes looked soft to the touch, and Harry wondered what it would be like to just pull on the strands.

And he would admit, those black skinny jeans looked pretty damn sexy on him...

“Hm, what's the price on that?” Harry said seductively as he strutted over to the good-looking employee. The boy looked up – good god, those deep blue eyes were to die for – and frowned slightly, eye brows twitching closer together. Harry smirked; slightly annoyed looked good on him. He vaguely wondered how good anger would look on him...

“Price on what, sir?” the boy asked, his tone suggesting that he was, in fact, irritated with Harry – for what reason, Harry didn't know, but he obviously did something to piss this guy off.

“On that ass,” Harry said with a smirk. 

Red covered his cheeks within seconds and his jaw dropped, making Harry chuckle; red was his color, hands down. The boy pushed him away and walked past him in a huff, obviously not liking Harry's teasing. “Does that mean it's on the house?”

The boy stopped mid-step and looked back at Harry angrily, “Either get a material object, or get the fuck out.”

He stomped away and back to the counter, Harry following and trying to hold back his laughter; this kid was just too fun! When Harry made it to the front of the store, he found the boy standing behind the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and pouting slightly. Harry leaned his elbows against the counter, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

“Does your number count as a material object...” he looked down to his name tag before continuing, “Louis?”

Louis frowned, grumbling, “No, it doesn't.”

“Oh, come on, darling! What do you have against me?” Harry mocked with a whine. “I mean, I know you're into guys!”

Louis's eyes widened as he hissed, “And what makes you think that?”

Harry pointed down to the key clip hanging off one of his belt loops. “There's a gay pride keychain; now either you have a close relative who is LGBT or you are.” Harry said playfully.

A scowl found Louis's lips and Harry just wanted to kiss it right off before he said, “Just because I'm gay, doesn't mean I'm easy.”

“Aw, why not?” Harry jutted out his lip. “We're two very attractive people – we should play the bouncy bed game together,” Harry purred as he ran his finger down the boy's chest. Louis smacked his hand away, his eyebrows furrowing even closer together, even through his blush.

“I don't want to play anything with you; you're a fucking prick,” Louis growled out; it seemed more than obvious that this was a losing battle Harry was fighting in. He was never one to give up easily, however.

“And why do you say that?”

Louis leaned in closer, attitude thick in his voice as he said, “Maybe if you'd helped me get my fucking things when you so nicely pushed me over, you wouldn't come off as such a douchebag.”

Harry stared at him in confusion; what was he talking about? “Sorry about that, mate” Louis mocked dryly and Harry's brows lifted slightly. This was the kid from earlier...?

“You looked like the type who liked it rough,” Harry joked.

“That's too bad, then,” Louis feigned disappointment. “Cause I like guys who are gentle.”

Harry smirked, “I think I could get you to love my ways.”

A sound of insistent beeping filled the air, and Louis looked down at his watch. “As fun as that sounds, it's closing time,” Louis smiled innocently. “So get the fuck out, kay?”

But still, Harry's smirk remained. He eyed the peculiar boy up and down before nodding and exiting the music store, thoughts of a certain brunette lingering in his mind the whole drive home.

He loved a good challenge.


End file.
